


the taste of his mouth, fleeting

by radialarch



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Post-Season/Series 01, Tie Kink, lip gloss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 06:24:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9223076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radialarch/pseuds/radialarch
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki is a fucking tease.





	

A week into January, when Yuuri had come back from Japan, he said, out of the blue, “Let’s go out.” Somewhere nice, to celebrate their respective national titles, and get to know the city. Did Viktor know a good place for something like that?

Viktor did know a place. It was near the apartment; he’d gone often enough that they were always happy to give him some privacy, and there were several choices on the menu even his nutritionist approved of.

“We’ll dress up,” he’d said brightly, and then pouted a little. “Why won’t you let me get you a suit?”

“I like my suit,” Yuuri said, unswayed. “But you could — lend me a tie, if you want.”

The idea of something of his at Yuuri’s throat was a good one. Maybe the burgundy. Something with a bit of gravity. It’d suit Yuuri much better than the silly blue thing.

“Okay,” he said. He was smiling again. Yuuri was asking him on a date. Yuuri wanted to take him somewhere. He was home, in Saint Petersburg, and Yuuri was going to wear one of his ties.

“This weekend?” Yuuri said. His voice wobbled a little, before he straightened out his shoulders and shook it off.

Viktor should have paid attention, really. But he was thinking about the tie: whether Yuuri would let Viktor put it on him; the length of fabric pressed against Yuuri’s skin, slowly warmed by his body heat. Maybe Yuuri would keep it, and wear it again, distracting in a new way each time. Or maybe Viktor could wear it, after. Then the touch of silk at his throat would have an echo of Yuuri in it, enough to make him faintly breathless. He couldn’t decide which would be better.

So, in the end, Viktor was entirely unprepared for the other part of Yuuri’s plans. The part that proved, absolutely, that Yuuri Katsuki was a tease of the highest order, and very nearly killed him in the process.

———

Yuuri did let Viktor put on his tie for him, the night of the date, standing still while Viktor slid the knot up to settle at the hollow of Yuuri’s throat.

“There,” Viktor said, smoothing out the points of his collar, perhaps less for sartorial reasons and more for the chance to lay his palms against Yuuri’s chest. Yuuri indulged him; Yuuri did, quite often, which was a minor miracle in and of itself.

“You should get dressed, too,” Yuuri said afterwards, tugging his jacket onto his shoulders. “We don’t want to be late.”

“Dressing you is more fun,” Viktor said, but sat on the edge of the bed anyway. His own tie was a muted gray. He put it on with considerably less enthusiasm, and was contemplating the problem of shoes when Yuuri put a hand on his shoulder.

The touch was gentle, but firm; the meaning was clear. Viktor stayed as he was, seated, which meant he’d have to look up to see Yuuri’s face.

Yuuri reached out with his other hand to press a finger under Viktor’s chin and tilt it up, just a little further. Viktor had to make an effort to keep his eyes from sliding shut.

“Your lips,” he said. “They need something.”

Viktor licked them, without quite meaning to, and watched Yuuri swallow.

“I haven’t done this before,” Yuuri said, sliding his hand off Viktor’s shoulder, “so stay still, okay? Don’t move.”

Viktor did not move. He stayed the way Yuuri had put him, while Yuuri pressed his hand into his pocket and came up with a cylinder of some kind. It glittered faintly under the bedroom lights.

It was, Viktor realized, a tube of lip gloss.

He must have shifted then, because Yuuri frowned at him.

“Sorry,” he said, drifting back to his original position. His eyes were still fixed on the tube in Yuuri’s hand. The label was in Japanese. Yuuri must have gotten it while he was in Osaka for the nationals. He thought about Yuuri, walking into a store, and looking for something to put on Viktor’s mouth. The tube sitting inside Yuuri’s pocket like a secret.

Yuuri had _planned_.

“Oh,” he said, a soft, breathy exhale, and Yuuri frowned again.

“I won’t do it if you aren’t going to be good.”

“No, no,” Viktor said, hurried, “Yuuri, please.”

Yuuri’s eyes slid from Viktor’s mouth to the column of his throat. He softened. “I want you to look nice,” he said, and twisted off the cap. 

Yuuri brought up his hand, the one that wasn’t holding the lip gloss, to cup the back of Viktor’s head. Viktor nearly pressed into it, before he remembered himself, and held himself still; Yuuri let out a hum of approval, and lifted his other hand up to Viktor’s face.

Viktor could see clearly the glint of gold on Yuuri’s finger. His hand was trembling a little, and there was a blush of pink all across the bridge of his nose, but his expression was determined.

Something sweet burst across Viktor’s mouth. Some kind of berry, maybe, or candy floss. Playful.

Viktor’s dick, which had been quietly interested through this whole affair, suddenly became quite loudly interested.

The tube slid slowly across Viktor’s bottom lip, in fits and jerks; then Yuuri lifted it away. Viktor found himself making an undignified sort of noise, all his muscles locked tight. He wasn’t moving. He felt drawn almost unbearably taut, a bowstring on the point of snapping — but he wasn’t moving.

“It’s a little awkward,” Yuuri said, contemplative. “When you can’t feel what you’re doing.”

He set the lip gloss down, carelessly on Viktor’s thigh, and when his hand came back it was the tip of Yuuri’s index finger pressed to the curve of Viktor’s lip instead.

This must be payback for something, Viktor thought deliriously. An exquisitely planned murder. They were going to find him like this, his heart given out, and Yuuri might not even let him _come_.

He pressed his thighs together, a move that did nothing to help the tightness in his groin but sent the tube of lip gloss sliding across the width of his slacks.

“Viktor,” Yuuri said, and stopped touching him altogether because he was a cruel, cruel man, and Viktor was going to die here. “You won’t let that fall, will you?”

“Yuuri,” he said. His voice had gone very hoarse. It took him a moment before he could focus on Yuuri, chewing lightly on his own lip and flushed all the way to the tips of his ears. “Please.”

A pause, while Viktor only heard the thundering of his own pulse, and then Yuuri was touching him again, sliding a hand into Viktor’s hair and sliding the pad of his thumb over Viktor’s mouth.

“You’re beautiful,” Yuuri said, “that was perfect, god, Viktor, sometimes I think I dreamed you up.”

Viktor licked the bit of Yuuri’s thumb he could reach; it was still faintly sweet. “And you,” he said dreamily; his arousal had turned from a flame into something warmer, low and steady. “You were such a surprise. Are. Always.”

Yuuri blinked at him, and then kissed him, until Viktor could no longer separate the taste of lip gloss from the taste of Yuuri. It was one and the same: Yuuri’s mouth, warm and wet, and a hint of sharpness where he’d bitten him, at first by accident and then again, quite deliberately.

“We should go,” Yuuri said afterward, tugging Viktor up by his hand and straightening his tie, self-consciously. The lip gloss had tumbled somewhere under the bed, and neither of them could be bothered to retrieve it at the moment. “You said you liked the restaurant, Viktor, and I’m hungry.”

Viktor looked helplessly down at himself, his shirt rumpled and his mouth kissed red and still uncomfortably hard despite it all. A pity; those pants had really been very nice.

Yuuri blushed again, but there was a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “It’s cold outside,” he said. “And we’re walking. I think you can manage.”

“You’re underestimating yourself,” Viktor said. He’d meant it to be an accusation, but it came out much too fond. “Yuuri Katsuki, do you want to kill me?”

Perhaps that would have been a tad more convincing if Viktor wasn’t perfectly willing to let him, really. So Viktor slid Yuuri’s coat onto his shoulders and looped a scarf around his lovely neck, and let Yuuri drag him off by the hand into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> [wild hand motions] Look, this is just PWP without... the porn.
> 
> Did _anyone_ want a literal thousand words of Yuuri putting lip gloss on Victor's mouth? No. And yet.


End file.
